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WHAT 


Robbie was Good For. 


WA/^ 

MRS. M. DfBRINE.- 



AMEIUCAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

I so NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 



‘ COPYRIGHT, 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
1876 


WHAT 


ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 


When little Robbie Moore fell 
from a shed and was carried to 
his mother’s arms an unconscious 
and seemingly lifeless burden, the 
sympathizing neighbors rejoiced 
when at last the good old Doctor 
Blake pronounced life not to be 
extinct. And still more they re- 
joiced when the child’s merry blue 
eyes put off their unusual languid, 
heavy lidded appearance, and re- 
turned to their wonted light with 


4 WHAT. ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

returning health, and the plaintive 
voice regained its natural cheerful 
tones. 

But when, after many weeks, 
the little boy began to look strange- 
ly about the shoulders, and his 
small back, which should have 
been firm and straight as an arrow, 
grew out with a decided curve, so 
that finally Dr. Blake gently broke 
the news to the troubled parents, 
‘‘ Your boy must never expect to 
be well again,” then those same 
neighbors, with pitying glances 
towards blacksmith Moore s hum- 
ble cottage, exclaimed, “ Poor thing ! 
what will he ever be good for ?” 

But while his earthly friends dis- 
tressed themselves with that ques- 
tion, and shook their heads sorrow- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 5 

fully because no satisfactory an- 
swer came, little Robbie s best 
Friend, the Friend who had chosen 
to afflict him, and seemingly darken 
his whole future, was looking down 
from heaven and watching the pa- 
tient, helpless boy more lovingly 
even than the dear mother whose 
tender arms enfolded her one little 
ewe lamb every spare moment of 
the day, and whose careful eyes 
never ceased watching over his 
comfort. God knew, if none other, 
what the small frame was worth, 
and what Robbie could be good 
for. He knew for he had planned 
the- boy’s life from the beginning, 
and Robbie’s parents did n’t think, 
when first he was given to them, a 
bright-eyed, beautiful baby, that 


6 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

God had lent them a son to per- 
form a sweet mission on earth, and 
teach them with the Giver’s help 
many truths yet unlearned by the 
happy parents. So neighbors said, 
“ Poor thing ! what will he ever be 
good for?” and the father and 
mother in their hearts echoed the 
cry 

Robbie awoke one morning after 
a restless night of pain, and heard 
his parents softly conversing in the 
adjoining room. “ He will always 
be a miserable puny little fellow,” 
said his mother with a sigh ; “ and 
I think neighbor Jones was right 
when she called it a cruel fate 
which spared the dear boy’s life only 
to prolong his season of misery.” 

'‘Neighbor Jones had better at- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 7 

tend to her own affairs!” was the 
blacksmith’s gruff reply. “Would 
you rather your son had never 
opened his loving eyes again on 
that dreadful day we thought him 
dead, than to have his blessed com- 
pany with us, even though he be 
not the sprightly lad he once was ? 
bless him!” 

Something in his father’s voice 
made Robbie sure he wanted to cry, 
only he was a man and would n’t. 
And the mother answered with a 
loving glance towards the small 
room that belonged to her boy, 
“O James, it is the pain he endures 
that hurts me so! I would almost 
rather be planting flowers on his 
little grave, than watch him twist 
and turn in his sleep and moan 


8 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

with the pain night and day. My 
poor boy! what will he ever be 
good for?” 

Robbie lay very still in his bed, 
but his face grew whiter, and the 
wistful blue eyes filled with tears. 
“ PFas he only a useless little thing 
after all?” he thought. '‘Would 
he never be of any account in 
the world?” Then he remembered 
'things his Sunday-school teacher 
had told her scholars, and though 
at the time of her remarks he had 
not appeared more attentive than 
children usually are during confine- 
ment between four walls when they 
would prefer being out in the sun- 
shine, yet now all she had talked of 
came back to him and he had noth- 
ing to do but lie quietly there and 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 9 

think of the once carelessly learned 
lessons. 

There had been plenty of sick 
little children who had yet lived 
useful lives : that he knew, because 
he had read about them in story- 
books, and his teacher had told him 
so too. But then they had all 
seemed to have some particular 
talent for a particular line of use- 
fulness, and when he had heard 
about those cases, he had thought 
but little about them ; of course 
he would never be like those poor 
sick things, he with his six years of 
strength and growth and his active 
little limbs with which. he could run 
like a deer and climb like a monkey. 

But Robbie had always been 
surrounded by Christian examples 


lo WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

and influences. His mother had 
taught him to pray, and trained 
him to revere and love God. And 
his father always encouraged him 
when he did right and punished 
him if he did wrong : all this before 
his fall. Since his ill-health every 
one had treated him more kindly 
than ever, and in fact the child did 
not know, so carefully had the truth 
been hidden from his knowledge, 
how sorely stricken his young life 
had been. He only knew that 
pains came upon him night and 
day, and that his hands seemed 
whiter than they used to be, and 
that it hurt him to walk about 
much. When he looked in the 
small glass that hung just where 
his tiptoes would permit- him a 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. ii 

glance at himself, he only saw a 
white thin face, and dark circles 
under his eyes. Mamma explained 
that sickness always caused that, 
and he had day by day expected to 
feel better and be like other boys. 

Meanwhile the little back was 
growing more and more out of 
shape, and by-and-by the boy could 
not sit comfortably in his chair un- 
less mamma put a pillow behind 
him. “My jacket don’t set as it 
used to, mamma,” he would say 
once in awhile, trying to pull it 
down, and wondering that it felt so 
tight over his back. And poor 
mamma would turn her head aside 
to hide a tear as she saw only too 
well why the little jacket had lost its 
usual fit. Never again would she 


12 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

see a straight, nobly-formed Robbie 
Moore in the boy . before her, only 
a puny, hunchbacked little fellow, 
who claimed on account of his de- 
formity, double the love and ten- 
derness given him before. 

On this morning when he listen- 
ed with his eager ears to the talk 
between his father and mother, he 
remembered that it was his birth- 
day. Seven years old, and just a 
year since he had fallen from the 
shed. 

“ I should think God would have 
felt sorry about such a little fellow 
as I am,” he thought fretfully; 
‘'and hurt a big boy, if he wanted 
some one to be hurt.” 

“ O Robbie ! that is wicked !” 
whispered conscience, and straight- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 13 

way Robbie softened down and 
said a little prayer in his heart. 

Presently his mother came in 
and stooped to kiss him. The 
smile on her lips could not hide 
the tears in her eyes, and the little 
boy put his arms about her neck 
and whispered, “ I heard you talking, 
mamma, and I want you to tell me 
what is really the matter with me. 
I will not cry one bit, only tell me 
all you know about me ; because I 
guess you know more than I do, 
mamma dear!” patting her cheek 
and kissing her and trying to be 
very brave and cheerful. 

Then very gently, restraining her 
tears lest he should grow frightened, 
the poor mother told her boy all the 
sad truth. He heard her through 


14 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

quietly and without one word of 
interruption, though his breath 
came hard and fast, and he winked 
fast to keep back the tears. 

When Mrs. Moore laid him back 
upon the pillow, and kissed the 
white face before going down for 
his breakfast, Robbie knew all 
things concerning him, knew that 
he was no better in figure than old 
hunchbacked Jim, the beggar who 
lived in the next village and whom 
Robbie had always pitied; knew 
that never again would he be like 
other boys, able to run and walk 
with ease. 

Child-fashion, he thought of ev- 
erything. There was his new sled 
which Uncle John, the village shoe- 
maker, had sent him in anticipa- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 15 

tioii of the coming winter. There 
were his skates which last year he 
had learned so nicely to use. He 
was well then, O dear! And no 
wonder the child-heart was unable 
to bear its sudden burden ; no won- 
der he rebelled against God, against 
everybody, and even the kind doctor 
who had attended him patiently 
though uselessly all this time. He 
cried and cried, and finally slept 
from exhaustion and his mother, 
while he slept, knelt beside him 
and kissed the tears from her boy s 
lashes and thin cheeks. 


i6 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

II. 

Days passed, and Robbie, scorn- 
ing the idea of being a baby over 
what could n’t be helped, shut his 
lips tightly when pain prompted 
tears, and tried to be a little man. 
Still it was hard for him to lie still 
and think of the future, and harder 
still when once he heard a neigh- 
bor whisper the familiar question, 
''What will the poor child ever be 
good for?” She did not intend the 
remark for his ears, but he moved 
slowly across the room to his 
mother’s side and stoutly exclaimed : 
'• I ’m good for mamma and papa 
to love, even if — if” — a little quiver 
of the voice here pierced his moth- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 17 

er’s heart — “ I am only a little 
hunchback !” The neighbor left him 
clasped in mamma’s arms. Oh, 
the tenderness of mother’s arms ! 
and the world of comfort there is 
in mother’s kiss ! 

I wonder if you have ever asked 
God to make me well, .mamma?” 
presently asked the boy, and she who 
held him hid her eyes in his golden 
hair as she replied very softly, 

“ Your mother has been nearer 
God in prayer, my boy, since your 
illness than ever before. He will 
answer when it seems best to him ; 
but, O Robbie ! Robbie ! it is ah 
most breaking mamma’s poor heart 
to see her boy suffer so !” If the 
child’s sickness was likely to lead 
his mother nearer the throne 


3 


i8 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

through prayers for him, than ever 
before she had approached, who 
can say that he was not already 
good for something which angels 
might well rejoice over ? 

By-and-by, when the little boy 
seemed stronger, and the pain came 
at greater intervals, he used to sit 
at the door of his father s shop and 
talk to the school children as 
they passed to and from school. 
Some of the children were rude 
and rough, and had so little innate 
delicacy of feeling that Robbie was 
frequently twitted about his inability 
to run and jump as they could, and 
even called “girl-baby,” because 
now and then their taunts would 
make him cry. The blacksmith, 
however, when he discovered their 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 19 

mischief, would speedily show the 
boys what he thought of their rude* 
ness, and Robbie, the victim of 
their scoffing, would himself plead 
for their release, so quickly did he 
forgive and try to forget his wrongs. 
Others among the children would 
talk with him kindly, pitying the 
lameness and deformity that kept 
their little comrade almost a pris- 
oner in his cushioned chair, while 
they could romp and play with all 
the freedom of their well-formed 
limbs. 

Sometimes Robbie would think 
sadly, “ I wonder why God did not 
make one of those boys lame in- 
stead of me ? they were no better 
than I, and they climbed sheds as 
often as I did! O dear! I wish 


20 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

there hadn’t been any shed at all, 
and I had n’t had any kite !” Some- 
times, too, he would have even a 
sadder wish in his poor little heart : 
“I wish the doctor had just let me 
die. I did n’t want to live this 
way, and I never can be of any use 
in all my life!” This wish was 
always accompanied with a sob 
and choking sensation in Robbie’s 
throat which the watchful mother- 
ears caught, and the tender moth- 
er-eyes wept for. 

But the natural sunshine of the 
little boy’s temper, and the silently 
transforming power of the Spirit 
of God would shine out bright, and 
clear after these occasional cloudy 
seasons, and he became so good 
and patient that everybody loved 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 21 

him. The few bad boys who 
teased him soon learned to dread 
the style of argument used by the 
blacksmith, and left the lame boy 
more in peace. The other chil- 
dren honored him with the title of 
“Judge,” because once or twice he 
had playfully settled a quarrel be- 
tween them to the satisfaction of 
all parties, and presently got into 
the habit of referring to him when- 
ever a difficulty occurred ; and rare- 
ly did Robbie fail in giving wise 
judgment and securing a happy 
result. Perhaps his affliction had 
rendered him prematurely thought- 
ful and given him wisdom beyond 
his years ; at any rate he grew daily 
more considerate and .gentle and 
seemed far wiser than many a child 


22 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

older than himself. Blessed are 
the peacemakers,” wrote the record- 
ing angel after each effort of Rob- 
bie s to restore good feeling between 
little friends who had quarrelled and 
complained to their small judge, 
one against the other. And “ Bless- 
ed are the peacemakers,” was echoed 
in heaven as the glad record was 
known. But Robbie, sitting in his 
chair by the door of papa’s shop, 
only knew that somehow he was 
growing to be a very happy boy, 
and “ his heart felt so warm and 
contented lately ; what was the 
reason?” he wondered. 

Then came the season for sleds 
and skates. Robbie looked from 
his window one morning and there 
was the beautiful snow, coming 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 23 

thick and fast from the mysterious 
upper world, whitening all the land- 
scape, and dressing the trees till 
everything looked like fairy-land. 
“ O dear ! O dear me !” he said. 
It was so hard to know that he 
could never again join the boys in 
their coasting down hill, and their 
fun on the pond. Dr. Blake had for- 
bidden the exercise as being too 
violent, and indeed Robbie was far 
too delicate to attempt such sports. 
But for all that it was hard to watch 
the snow and hear the shouts of the 
boys as with sleds and snowballs 
they welcomed the winter s coming. 
For a few minutes it rained in\ 
Robbie s heart and -over his cheeks, 
poor little white cheeks that used 
to be so rosy! Then out came 


24 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

the sunshine again, and peeping 
through his eyes dried every tear, 
and the boy was himself again. 

Pretty soon a voice was heard: 
“Want any wood? any wood to- 
day ?” And there was “ Tim, the 
wood-boy,” as he was called, plod- 
ding through the snow with the 
little wooden-wheeled hand-cart full 
of kindling wood, which it was 
hard work for him to pull through 
the deep snow. 

Tim paused a moment to watch 
with wistful eyes the boys who, 
careless of the fast-falling snow- 
flakes, were merrily sliding down 
the hill. He had never owned a 
sled, and would almost as soon 
have thought of owning a gold- 
mine as a sled or any other luxury 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 25 

for play, for he had much ado to 
keep himself and grandmother in 
clothing, scant as it was; but he 
could look at the more fortunate 
little fellows and if he envied them 
nobody need know it. “Thou 
shalt not covet thy neighbors 
goods,” was a command of which 
Tim knew nothing, and I am afraid 
he was breaking it with all his 
might at the moment Robbie saw, 
him from his window. 

Robbie could see with half an 
eye whaf Tim was longing for, and 
all at once a kind thought hopped 
into his mind. Ah, how many such 
suggestions come to us from above, 
and go away unheeded ! But not 
so with this one ! Robbie cried out 
suddenly, “O mamma! I know 
v 


26 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

what I ’m going to do !” Then he 
tapped on the window, and Tim 
looked round. “Wood to-day?” 
he asked, ready for business at 
once. 

Mrs. Moore went to the door 
and called him in. “ No wood to- 
day, Tim, but Robbie wants you ; 
come in and see him.” Tim looked 
at his boots ; one red toe peeped 
out of a hole, and the others were 
fast gaining freedom in like man- 
ner, while a portion of the heel was 
visible through the large slit which 
ran up the back of Tim s well-worn 
boot. He felt ashamed of his ap- 
pearance, but it could n’t be helped 
after all, so in he marched to the 
small room where the hunchbacked 
boy awaited him. Robbie s parents 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 27 

were poor to be sure, but not so 
badly off as Tim s grandmother, 
and the little invalid did not forget 
to be grateful for his blessings such 
as they were, as he looked at ragged, 
cold little Tim. 

When the poor wood-boy went 
away he wore a stout pair of Rob- 
bies shoes, and dragged merrily 
after him Robbie’s sled, to which 
the skates were securely strapped. 
Such a happy boy as Tim was that 
morning! His load of wood could 
be hauled on the sled during “busi- 
ness hours,” and after that — why 
he could coast a little as well as 
other boys, for the hill was free to 
all and he had a right to the beau- 
tiful snow as well as the next 
boy. 


28 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

So here was another thing that 
Robbie was good for. He had 
made a poor boy happy, and helped 
him to bear his daily burden of 
hard work by a kind act which 
would ever be remembered. But 
the child-heart quivered a little, for 
it was only a little seven-year-old 
boy after all who was called upon 
to suffer and be patient, and it re- 
quired many of mamma’s kisses to 
heal the sore spot in her boy’s 
heart. 

Pretty soon there came a wee 
stranger for Robbie to love with 
a brother’s love, and amuse while 
mamma was busy elsewhere. Baby 
did n’t care whether brother’s back 
was straight or crooked. She only 
knew that her sunshine was found 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 29 

in his soft blue eyes, and that in 
his loving voice lingered all the 
music she cared for. And mamma 
said to the neighbors, “ My Rob- 
bie is such a comfort to me !” If 
he had been well and strong like 
his comrades, would he have been 
such a comfort to mamma? would 
he have daily drawn her to the 
throne of grace through her pity 
for him, thus teaching her to love 
her Saviour more? would he have 
been aii^ong the children the little 
peacemaker” they considered him, 
if he had like them been able to 
romp and play, and quarrel and 
strike for his rights, boy-fashion? 
Oh, there were a hundred things 
which Robbie proved himself good 
for, though he himself seemed un- 


30 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

conscious of them all ; the con- 
stant making of sunshine in his 
home ; the many little helpful 
things that mamma could hardly 
have done without. Surely the 
deformed boy’s life was not so use- 
less as the neighbors thought. 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 31 


III. 

The winter passed, and with it 
passed away much of Robbies 
strength. When spring came, the 
little boy could only sit under the 
trees beside his father’s shop for 
a little while during the day, and 
then the strong father-arms would 
carry him back to the house, and 
lay him tenderly on the lounge. 

Many tears did mamma shed 
secretly to see her boy grow daily 
so thin and pale ; but he was the 
same merry boy at heart, and many 
a plan for the future he formed 
lying quietly on his couch — plans 
which, alas! might never be carried 
out. Every day the little hunch- 


32 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

back was unconsciously setting his 
waiting crown with very precious 
stones, found only in the golden 
city above ; and every day the an- 
gels that go to and fro to minister 
to Gods people looked on him 
more lovingly; and daily the little 
child crept closer into his mother s 
heart, and clung to her with a beau- 
tiful love, and a hope that some 
day she could make him well again 
with her care. 

One day he felt strong enough 
to sit on the doorstep of his house 
in the bright sunshine of early fall. 
Mamma was busy inside, and pa- 
pas stout arm was making the 
anvil ring across the way. Pres- 
ently neighbor Jones’ son, a lad of 
Robbie’s age, went whistling by, 





WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 33 

and nodded to Robbie carelessly. 
•The grocer s store was near, and 
Robbie saw with indignation that 
Bill Jones, helped himself unob- 
served by the owner to one or two 
fine apples, which were hidden 
speedily underneath the young 
thief’s jacket. When he suddenly 
turned and caught Robbie’s eye, 
Billy crimsoned all over^ his face, 
and hastily approached. 

I say, you good-for-nothing, if 
you dare tell on me you ’ll catch it, 
I tell you, first chance I get.” 

Robbie looked the boy straight 
in his guilty face, and unawed by 
the threat, replied, Somebody be- 
sides me saw you. Bill Jones; and 
you ’ll surely be punished some day 
for stealing. God saw you.” 

5 


34 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

Bill turned on his heel uneasily. 

Pooh ! no cant, please, Robbie. 
I ’m proof against that humbug.” 

I do n’t know what you mean 
by cant,” replied Robbie ; “ but if it 
is humbug to say God saw you, 
then you emi t be proof against that 
humbug.” 

Billy . laughed at Robbie’s little 
pun, and the latter seeing him good- 
natured again, grew bolder, and 
urged him to carry the fruit back. 

“ Why, I ’ve often taken things 
when nobody saw,” said Billy, “and 
I ’d fare badly for fruit if I did n’t 
help myself now and then.” 

“ But Somebody always sees you, 
Billy,” urged Robbie. “ God looks 
out of the sky all the time, and sees 
every time you take a thing that 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 35 

isn’t yours; and the Bible says, 
‘Thou shalt not steal,’ you know.” 

. “ Does it ? I forget about what 
I learned at Sunday-school. But 
I guess God doesn’t care about 
watching little fellows like us all 
the while.”. 

“ O Billy, if I . thought God 
was n’t taking care of mamma and 
papa, and little sissy, and even poor 
little lame me, every day and night, 
I would be so miserable, you can’t 
think.” 

. “ How do, you know he does ?” 
persisted Billy, longing to taste his 
fruit, yet not quite dead to con- 
science; and conscience, taking 
advantage of Robbie’s words, was 
pricking him pretty severely. 

“ Why, because the Bible says 


36 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

he sees even a sparrow; and he 
made us — so of course he will take 
care of us. What a question !'’ 
rather scornfully. “ And I feel it 
here,’^ laying his tiny hand on his 
heart, “ that God is watching me 
always. And, Bill Jones, if you 
dare eat those stolen apples, maybe 
as a punishment you ’ll be sick and 
have to die !” 

Rather a severe lecture from 
Robbie, but he only spoke as he 
felt, and the plain truth did Billy 
more good perhaps than a more 
gently- expressed reproof might 
have dorie. The idea of dying was 
rather alarming to Billy, who had 
never felt quite easy in his con- 
science at any time of stealing; 
and somehow little Robbie s ear- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 37 

nest face and earnest words im- 
pressed him as he was not gener- 
ally impressed by a reproof ; so he 
drew the apples from their hiding- 
place, and with a wistful glance at 
them, said, “ Maybe I ’d better put 
them back.” 

“ Maybe you had,” repeated Rob- 
bie decidedly, “ unless you buy 
them.” 

Got no money for that, not a 
cent. Do n’t want them if they 
aint free, gratis, for nothing,” de- 
clared Billy, and he reluctantly 
retraced his steps and replaced the 
fruit. “Wish you’d kept in the 
house,* Rob Moore,” he said fret- 
fully, repassing Robbie ; “ you do n’t 
let a fellow have one bit of comfort 
with your preaching.” Neverthe- 


38 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. . 

less, Billy Jones would never again 
be able to steal without the remem- 
brance of the hunchbacks sweet, 
earnest -face to a\vaken his sleepy 
conscience. 

Ah, neighbor Jones, you were 
one of the first to ask, “ What will 
Robbie Moore ever be good for?” 
and lo ! your own son can tell what 
he has done for him, despite his 
poor weak back and crippled form. 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 39 


IV. 

The next winter came quickly 
on, and Christmas time was near. 
Robbie sat alone in hjs father’s 
shop, left in charge for 'only a few 
moments. It was rainy and dis- 
mal outside, and two boys came 
shiveringly* inside for the warmth 
of the forge. Some sport that they 
had planned the rain had interrupt- 
ed, and while warming themselves 
.their tongues were quick to speak 
complainingly of the day, and dis- 
respectfully of Him who had or- 
dered the change of weather. 

Little Robbie had been reading 
a pretty new Bible that some kind 
friend had given him. The new- 


40 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

ness of the bpok, though he was 
always fond of reading God’s word, 
had tempted him to keep it in his 
hand, with his child’s love for beau- 
tiful things, more than usual ; and 
his heart was full of the sweet 
Bible stories he found there. The 
rude voices of the boys disturbed 
him, and he said, “ Please go out of 
papa’s shop ; he does n’t like to 
have you here, you know, when 
you are bad.” 

“ Who ’s bad, you Robbie Moore, 
I’d like to know?” cried one an- 
grily, while the other laughed and 
snapped his fingers. 

“ You are,” was Robbie’s answer. 
'‘You are talking rudely of God, 
and he made the weather, so you 
should not find fault. Besides, you 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 41 

swore just now, Tom Blake, and 
your father would be angry if he 
knew it.” 

“ Ho ! Mr. Preacher, who s going 
to tell him if you do n’t blab ?” was 
the reply. 

“ I sha’ n’t blab ; but you know 
God hears you.” Robbie’s voice 
was low ; but perhaps on that ac- 
count it was more impressive, and 
the two lads who had “ taken in 
vain ” God’s holy name were some- 
what abashed. 

'‘Yes, that’s just the way,” said 
Tom to his companion, leaving the 
shop as the blacksmith drew near. 
“A fellow has always a kind of 
uncomfortable feeling after he’s 
been with Robbie Moore, for he 

does say the queerest things, and 
6 


<2 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

a body keeps remembering ’em 
too.” 

“Keeps remembering!” ^Yes, 
that is just what God intended 
should be the result of Robbie’s 
words ; and the brave boy’s defence 
of his Saviour’s precious name was 
one more gem in the crown that 
was awaiting him. 

II was the week before Christ- 
mas, and all the village people had 
been busy arranging evergreens 
and holly-wreaths for dressing the 
small village church. You know 
in the country all the young peo- 
ple, and even little folks, have a 
“ finger in the pie ” when it comes 
time for church-dressing ; and so 
when on the night before Christ- 
mas the folks went to hang the 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 43 

wreaths and make the little edifice 
as pretty as possible for Christmas 
morning, Robbie was carried in pa- 
pa’s arms to the church to see what 
was going on, and be amused as 
much as possible. 

Mamma di4 not object, for look- 
ing at the white, patient face, she 
thought it unlikely her boy would 
be spared for another Christmas 
with them. The little hands were 
growing thinner, the puny form yet 
more puny, and the blue eyes had 
gradually changed their merry ex- 
pression to a wistful, tender gaze 
which her own eyes in meeting his 
were unable to bear without tears. 

So she wrapped him up warmly 
and kissed his sweet lips many 
times before papa at last hurried 


44 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

away with the light burden in his 
arms. Baby was fretful, so the 
mother remained at home. 

Robbie for his comfort was 
placed on one of the high-back- 
ed cushioned seats of the village 
squire’s pew. He was the rich 
man among them all, and had man- 
ifested that fact in the furnishing 
of his pew. Robbie knelt on the 
cushions a little while and watched 
his father nailing and tying wreaths 
and festoons here and there, till the 
man had to return to his shop 
where one or two jobs ’ awaited 
him, and left his boy in care of a 
neighbor who promised to see him 
safely home. Then the murmur of 
voices, the dim light of candles, 
and the comfortable warmth of the 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 45 

church made Robbie sleepy ; and 
from nodding on the back of the 
pew, his curly head finally slipped 
down against the cushioned seat 
and so the little boy slid off into 
dreamland and knew nothing more 
concerning holly-wreaths or ever- 
greens. 

The different groups finished 
their work at lasfi and one by one 
the candles burned out until with 
the hanging of the last wreath over 
the organ-pipes, but three candles 
were burning and the little church 
was almost shrouded in darkness. 

“ Robbie has slipped out himself, 
I reckon ; I do n’t see him any- 
where,” said the neighbor in whose 
care the blacksmith had left his 
child ; and so with his companions 


46 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

he finally departed and Robbie 
slumbered on in the silence and 
darkness. 

The blacksmith was detained 
until late in the evening with jobs 
which must be finished before the 
ringing of the Christmas bells. 
His wife aroused from her nap at 
baby’s side by the ringing of the 
anvil-hammer, thought, “ James has 
returned to his shop and Robbie is 
still with him,” then sank to sleep 
again little knowing the lateness of 
the hour. Thus Robbie, whom 
papa supposed by that time to have 
been long asleep in his crib beside 
mamma’s bed, was guarded in his 
unconsciousness by the high-backed 
pew and high old-fashioned pulpit 
which stood like a sentinel before 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 47 

him, and more than all by. the 
watchful eye far above the sleeping 
world. 

But the cushion was not as com- 
fortable as the crib, and Robbie first 
restless, then suddenly wide awake 
sat up in terror with a sense of some- 
thing wrong. Where was he? In 
the darkness he felt for his moth- 
er’s hand, always within reach of 
his before, but now — only the cold 
hard touch of wood ! what did it 
mean? “ Mamma!” he called, and 
for answer only the echo of his 
own weak voice. A sob, a cry, 
and presently it flashed upon his 
bewildered senses where he was. 
The man had 'forgotten him, and 
they had gone without him. “ Oh, 
what will mamma and papa do 1” 


48 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

•Then as he ceased his sobs and 
listened to see if somebody even 
then might not be returning for 
him, a flickering light in a far cor- 
ner attracted his attention. Even 
while his startled eyes were watch- 
ing it grew larger and brighter, and 
the boy at once realized that in 
some way the church had caught 
fire. Probably a candle dimly- 
burning had been overlooked when 
the men went out and as it burnt 
out had set fire to the brush near 
which it stood. The slender tongue 
of flame had slowly increased but 
when* Robbie saw the blaze it was 
yet soon enough for a pail of water 
to have extinguished it altogether. 

But alas ! no water was at hand, 
nor could the child have handled a 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 49 

bucket conveniently. He was alone 
in the desolate edifice, and nothing 
but the fitful and terrifying glare of 
that mischievous fire to show him 
his situation. But Robbie was 
wise, we remember, and brave at 
all times, and he knew that if the 
church were to be saved, only his 
little strength, with God’s blessing, 
could avail at present. Frightened 
he was, of course, as any boy of 
his age would have been, and the 
brave blue eyes were tearful as they 
watched the tiny flames every in- 
stant gaining strength, while the 
•little fellow dragged himself pain- 
fully towards the danger. 

“The bell- rope! the bell-rope!” 
he thought, and groped his way 
along the vestibule floor until the 
7 


50 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR’. 

dangling rope was touched by his 
small trembling hands. 

The blacksmith had just learned 
of Robbie’s absence from* home, 
and with great trepidation was 
leaving his house in search of the 
child when — one — two — three — -on 
the clear night air rang out the 
silvery-tongued bell of the village 
church, rousing instantly from 
slumber the people far and. near. 

It was not long before the anx- 
ious father, little knowing the 
whole of his boy’s situation, with 
many of the wondering neighbors 
hastily entered the church. 

Meanwhile Robbie, after the third 
pull at the bell, crept back, to find 
the flames so greatly increased that 
if they were not speedily smothered 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 51 

assistance might arrive too late; 
and with one prayer to the dear 
Father whom his little heart had 
learned to trust so truly, ‘‘Not to 
let the fire hurt him very much,” 
he threw his small body down upon 
the flame, hoping to smother it out 
by his clothing, and roll away from 
it so speedily that he might escape 
danger. 

Poor little boy! it was a brave 
thought ; a brave, but impulsive 
deed, and it was hard that the little 
deformed body should have refused 
to obey the boys will when he 
strove to save himself. But the 
back was too weak, the small limbs 
too helpless for even the resolute 
will, and the cruel flame scorched 
and mocked the boy who tried to 


52 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

be its master. He was sadly burnt 
before his father came, with those 
eager strong arms of his, to snatch 
his dear child from the fire only 
partially arrested in its work of de- 
struction ; and while he hastened 
home and laid the moaning, quiv- 
ering boy in his mother’s arms, the 
neighbors speedily overcame the 
enemy, and their church was saved. 

“ Only for the boy it would have 
burned down, while we slept !” they 
exclaimed; but Robbie was lying 
unconscious and white on his moth- 
er’s knees, and Dr. Blake having 
done all he. could for his relief, 
kindly watched by his side through 
the night. 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 53 


' y. 

Christmas morning dawned at 
last. Robbie s long-snspended con- 
sciousness was restored, and he lay 
weak as ah infant- — yes, weaker 
than the tiny sister who slumber- 
ed, the picture of health, in her cra- 
dle — on his small couch, listening 
to the chime of bells, and watching 
with serious eyes his weeping 
mother. His father, worn out with 
grief, had slept only when the gray 
dawn of morning stole softly in to 
bring the tidings of Christmas, and 
Robbie had not yet seen hirn. 

But why did his mother cry so? 
he wondered. Why did she kiss 
him so frequently and look into his 


54 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

eyes so mournfully? Thinking to 
cheer her he said faintly and with 
a wan little attempt at a smile, 
“ Mamma, merry Christmas Poor 
little burned hands ! they could not 
reach out . to draw that dear mother 
closer, when she stooped over him ; 
and oh, the pain in the weak back 
and the blistered limbs! 

But Robbie knew he had saved 
the church from injury; they told 
him so as soon as he could listen, 
and he was a happy bpy, notwith- 
standing his burns. “O mamma! 
I w.as good for something that 
time, was n’t I ?” he exclaimed, in 
his faint voice. “ I could do some- 
thmg for people, after all, could n’t 
I, mamma?” And loving kisses an- 
swered him, though mamma could 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 55 

not speak. '‘Yes, the church was 
saved, and Robbie s being acciden- 
tally locked in was perhaps provi- 
dentially ordered,” she thought 
rather bitterly; but at what a price* 
had the village received their 
church from the flames! Alas, at 
what a price 1 . 

When the • night-shadows came 
softly down over the little town, and 
the Christmas day had slipped into 
the past, with its hours of mingled 
joy and pain had slipped away also 
so much of Robbie s feeble strength, 
that it became evident to all who 
looked upon him, how soon his 
gentle life would be only a sweet 
memory among them all. 

“Mamma! papa!” he called. 

“ Here, Robbie!” they replied. 


56 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

It was the night before New 
Year’s day, and Robbie had suffer- 
ed through the day fearfully; but 
now at the hour of twilight he was 
easier and wanted to talk. He 
looked at his little scarred hands, 
from which the bandages had been 
removed, and his lip quivered. “ I 
cannot use them much ever again, 
can I, mamma?” he asked, as the 
parents drew nearer his bedside. . 

'‘I fear not, darling! But papa 
and mamma have well hands to 
use for Robbie.” 

“ I ’m eight years old now, a’ n’t I, 
mamma?” 

Yes, dear boy ; mamma’s big 
boy, and a comfort to every one.” 

Robbie kissed his father’s hand, 
and also laid his sweet lips against 


WHAT KOBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 57 

his mother’s tender hand ere he 
placed it over his eyes to hide the 
tears fast gathering there. Pres- 
ently he said softly, “ I ’ve been 
thinking, dear mamma, and I ’m 
most certain God does n’t want me 
to get well at all. I thought may- 
be when I grew a man I would 
be strong like papa; but it is so 
long, 5^7 lo7ig! and I only get weaker 
every day, and — and — O mamma, 
I do n’t believe I shall ever be a 
man !” 

His mother tried to soothe him, 
but the pent-up tears overflowed at 
last, and the brave little heart was 
relieved after a while. 

He turned his head to look about 
the room, and seemed to linger long 
over each familiar article. 


58 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

I do n’t suppose I can look at 
them very long,” he said ; “ some- 
thing here,” he placed papa’s hand 
over his heart, “ tells me I — I am 
going to see Jesus pretty soon.” 

O Robbie, do n’t talk so !” cried 
his mother. “ Do you want to 
leave mamma .and papa alone? 
and dear little sister — what will 
she do?” 

The sweet blue eyes looked wist- 
fully over to the crib where, baby 
slept peacefully in all her beauty of 
fresh young life. 

“ If she should fall and hurt her- 
self as I did, O dear mamma, 
would n’t it be better if the doctor 
let her die than to be so useless 
as I have been, and only — only a 
hunchback!” 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 59 

Then mamma put her arms about 
her boy and spoke quietly, while the 
blacksmith left the room to weep 
unobserved. 

'‘Listen, Robbie, and see if you 
have been as useless as you think. 
You have drawn me, through your 
weakness, nearer to God. He saw 
that I needed to be brought nearer 
to him, and I knew it not. Sunday 
after Sunday we used to sing — • 
do you remember it? — 

“ ‘ Nearer my God to thee ! nearer to thee, 
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me.’ 

Well, dear, I sang the words may- 
be carelessly ; but the spoken wish 
was granted, and your suffering, 
my precious child, your sickness 
was the ‘cross’ which God for my 
own good sent to raise my heart in 


6o WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

prayer nearer to him. O Robbie, 
darling boy! think what Jesus per- 
mitted you to do for mamma, al- 
though it cost you your strength 
and your freedom of limb. Then, 
think what a comfort to uS both, 
papa and mamma, you have been 
since it happened that you could 
not run and play like other boys. 
You have made sunshine for your 
home every 'day, and yet you have 
not known what you were doing. 
I am sure that God knew, though, 
and he never forgets.” 

Oh 1 in many ways that even 
mamma was ignorant of, Jesus had 
known when and where and how 
little sick Robbie had done good 
to those about him. And the little 
fellow listened to his mother till a 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 6i 

smile came to drive the tears away, 
and he slept sweetly till the dawn 
of the glad New Years day. 

Billy Jones was sent by his 
mother to inquire how Robbie was 
feeling towards the close of that 
day. 

“Come in and cheer him up a 
little!” said Mrs. Moore. Billy stood 
embarrassed beside the invalid. 

“I’m glad to see you, Billy,” 
whispered Robbie holding out his 
scarred hand, “ because I ’ve been 
thinking about the last time you 
and I had a talk. Don’t you re- 
member you asked how I knew 
God watched us all the time ? 
Well I know you’ve got Bibles in 
your house, but I want you to take 
mine, here it is, and promise you ’ll 


62 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

read it ever so often ; because I like 
you, Billy, and I don’t want you 
to be wicked. Will you read it, 
please ?” 

Billy turned red all over his 
freckled face and stammered Yes 
but his eyes filled with tears, unused 
to them though they were, and he 
felt almost as if he stood in the 
presence of death itself, for Rob- 
bie’s face was as white as the snowy 
bed-linen and his eyes were sunken 
deep in their sockets. 

“ I ’ll never steal again, Robbie,” 
he said after a while, “ only do n’t 
look so white and dreadful. O 
Robbie, I will be a good boy if yon 
like me to. Nobody ever did care 
for me much, so I did n’t care for 
myself, you see. But if you ’ll get 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 63 

well, I ’ll do all you wish. I will 
truly, Robbie !” Then he went 
away, and saw Robbie Moore for 
for the last time living. 

Papa, will you take me down 
stairs ?” 

“ Why, Robbie, do n’t you think 
you had better sleep now and be 
bright for tomorrow ?” 

I do n’t feel sleepy, mamma, 
and if papa will take^ me I ’d like 
to go down just, a minute !” 

So he was carried down to the 
small sitting-room and placed easi- 
ly before the fire. Robbie looked 
at the pictures on the wall, hum- 
ble little specimens of the fine arts 
to be sure, but dear to him because 
he had seen them from babyhood : 
and he gazed long at each object 


64 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

the room contained, till his parents 
in surprise questioned him. I am 
looking good-by,” he said serious- 
ly; “and now take me up again, 
please.” 

Sadly he was again taken to his 
room, and at his request placed 
beside the window on his father’s 
knee. The boy looked out at the 
landscape, over the white fields, 
down the road towards the school- 
house, at the small church where 
he had suffered that terrible night 
a week ago, over the road where 
the blacksmith’s shop stood desert- 
ed because of the holiday, and last 
up at the bluish gray sky over 
which shadows were beginning to 
herald night’s approach. The wist- 
ful eyes gazed long and earnestly 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 65 

among the clouds and followed the 
golden path of the sun fast going 
to its rest behind the hills. 

“ It looks like a path made on 
purpose to lead to heaven, mamma, 
does n’t it ?” he asked presently. “ Oh 
everything is so beautiful there ! it 
does not seem hard to die when 
God makes the sky so beautiful for 
us !” 

“Robbie, you are nervous, dear; 
lie down and try to sleep. Do n’t 
talk of dying, darling! you make 
mamma feel dreadfully.” 

“Do I, mamma?” patting her 
cheek with his weak hand. “ I 
do n’t mean to 1 I ’ll lie down now. 
Good-by, dear sky, dear fields and 
all dear places where I have played 1” 
Then he turned to those who 


9 


66 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

watched him with a strange dread 
which their hearts could not throw 
off, and they laid him in his bed. 

“ I am glad that my soul is n’t 
deformed now like my body, mam- 
ma !” he whispered. “ I shall go 
to Jesus straight and strong, and 
not be ashamed to meet others 
there: that’s a comfort, isn’t it?” 

Ah, little Robbie ! how many 
there are, neither you nor your 
parents can tell, who must appear 
before their Maker with souls de- 
formed with sin and wickedness, so 
that the angels are fain to hide their 
eyes from the sight. Your poor 
body may have caused your little 
sensitive heart shame and distress 
more times than even your parents 
knew ; but your soul, the beautiful 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 67 

gem within the misshapen casket, 
ah ! God would receive it in glory 
as white, unstained and perfect as 
Christ s blood and love could make 
it. 

The night came swiftly on. Rob- 
bie slept till the old church clock 
struck the hour of one, when the 
sound roused him. Give me your 
hand, mamma,” he said without 
opening his eyes. Kiss me, please !” 
faintly. A pause followed, during 
which his parents watched the 
strange mysterious shadow steal 
over the dear face. 

'‘O Robbie! Robbie!” they 
cried, '‘don’t leave us, darling boy! 
what can we without you !” 

Robbie lifted his heavy lids a 
moment. “ Only a lame boy, but 


68 WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 

I loved you, papa — mamma, just the 
same as if I ’d been well and straight. 
I ’m SO tired !” 

Then angels, unseen by mortal 
eyes, kissed down the white lids, 
and while Robbie slept with his 
hand still clasping mamma’s, the 
message came from above, “ Cast 
off his bonds, and bring the freed 
spirit to me.” And up, up beyond 
the skies, through a golden flood 
of glory little Robbie’s earthly vis- 
ion had never beheld, the angels 
bore a ransomed soul and laid it 
tenderly on the Saviour’s bosom. 

When morning dawned the 
neighbors looked silently and tear- 
fully upon a white sweet face where 
a smile rested never to be driven 
away by tears, and kind hands pre- 


WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR. 69 

pared the helpless little body for its 
grave. But the father and mother 
wept together, and wondered if 
ever on earth again could be found 
a child whose life would be worth 
all their Robbie s had been despite 
his helplessness. 

Two years before, '‘What will 
he ever be good for !” was the cry 
that reached the ear of God. And 
now the same heavenly ear heard 
the cry of that mother’s heart, “Oh, 
what was he not good for ! my own 
precious boy, who has brought me 
so much nearer to Thee !” 


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